


Hurt, Not Helpless

by anaraine



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: F/M, [crossover]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-05
Updated: 2011-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 11:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/pseuds/anaraine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't know her. She's just a girl with pitifully weak smiles and eyes that bleed an aching sadness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt, Not Helpless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luna_delCielo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_delCielo/gifts).



> Many thanks to somnolentblue for being awesome and letting me use her as a sounding board. ♥♥♥

Gabriel leans over the counter, dropping a twenty down with his bill as he asks casually, "Who's the new girl?"

Kristy's eyebrow furrows, turning to look at the woman he had pointed out. Her mouth tightens as she catches sight of the pretty waitress with sad eyes. "Her name is Anne, Daniel. I know she's a pretty thing, but she's hurting badly. Don't go causing any trouble for her, okay?"

Since Kristy makes the best apple pie in this city of sinners and helpless, Gabriel shoots her a comforting smile. "Of course not, Kristy."

He's lying.

 **◊◊◊**

"What'll you have?"

"Frosting with a side of cinnamon rolls."

 **◊◊◊**

There's a spark in her, Gabriel knows. It's buried deeply but he can _feel_ it, something wild and dangerous that appeals to both of his halves. His grace is straining against the binds he placed on himself, wanting to reach out to her and soothe her hurts with what little purity he has left. Loki's magic is demanding that he _own_ her, hide her away and slaughter the cause of her sadness.

There is no reason for all of his spirit to be in agreement. He doesn't know her. She's just a girl with pitifully weak smiles and eyes that bleed an aching sadness.

And his obvious attraction is irritating, even if both of his halves are in agreement for the first time in centuries. Gabriel vaguely wonders if she's even legal by human standards.

But despite all of his misgivings, Gabriel finds himself sitting in the corner booth of Helen's Kitchen every morning at eight am sharp, watching as Anne forces herself to go through the motions.

 **◊◊◊**

"What'll you have?"

"Syrup with a side of pancakes."

 **◊◊◊**

Gabriel is barely able to hold in his snarl at the greasy trucker that slaps Anne on the ass, chuckling with his similarly grimy friends. He pushes down the fierce rush of _mineminemine_ with all of his lingering control, somehow knowing that exposing himself now would be unwise.

He makes sure to snap up something suitably nasty for the bastards that touched what was _his_ , however. The next girl they leer at will be their last.

 **◊◊◊**

"What'll you have?"

"Sugar with a dash of coffee."

 **◊◊◊**

When Gabriel notices that Anne is carrying around a wooden stake, Gabriel has a heart-stopping moment of pure, unadulterated fear. How could she have managed to peg him for a Trickster when he hadn't _done_ anything?

But she rattles off her question like usual and doesn't even attempt to follow him when he leaves. It's this incongruity that finally has him following her home, and Gabriel watches in astonishment as _his_ Anne slaughters a nest of vampires in the way of her route home.

She's poetry in motion, as beautiful as Kali as she delivers death to those who cross her. The vampires are neat little piles of dust on the ground when she finishes, but Anne looks even more weary than before the fight, her sadness honed into a sharp edge as she fingers the stake in her hand.

And Gabriel now has an idea of what tried to smother the spark of his goddess.

 **◊◊◊**

"What'll you have?"

"Jam with a side of toast."

 **◊◊◊**

He's acquired some sort of 'Anne-radar' without even trying, a buzz in the back of his head that lets him know she's alive, if not happy. He's starting to get the feeling that Anne has gained a similar connection, because she turns in his direction after every encounter she has with the lurking underbelly of Los Angeles.

Gabriel isn't sure whether to be happy about that or not.

But then one day, she's _gone_. A quick flicker and Anne has disappeared from his senses completely.

He's furious, grace bleeding from his vessel as he blinds those around him with no regard. A snap shifts the world around him and he's where she was last, slaughtering the half-breeds that are kneeling around a pool of unearthly sludge.

It takes a moment to register what the pool _is_ : a portal to one of the hell dimensions not of either of his pantheons. He would have no power there, a shell of his limited form now and likely next-to-useless in a fight. But he knows this is where Anne fell through and he wants to follow her anyways.

Gabriel carefully reminds himself that his Anne is a fighter and if she couldn't take care of herself he wouldn't have been attracted in the first place. Being hurt and being helpless are two very different things.

So he seethes and ties the loose ends of his grace back into his vessel, snapping up candy bars and chucking the wrappers at the dead corpses littering the room in a macabre game. Five points for hitting a head. Ten points for through the hole in his stomach. Twenty points for through the smaller hole in her heart.

He's almost up to an even ten thousand when the sludge ripples, a set of unfamiliar hands reaching for the edge and pulling themselves up. It's not one of the half-breeds though, so Gabriel lets him exit the room with his life.

The man is followed by a small batch of tired humans, all of whom make for the door without even glancing about them. Gabriel doesn't stop them; if they want to ignore his presence, all the better. He only wants Anne.

Gabriel waits impatiently at the edge of the pool, somehow knowing that the earlier group of humans had been freed by her doing. They weren't strong enough to escape on their own, weak willed and pitiful.

When Anne's small hand reaches out of the muck, Gabriel clasps their arms together, pulling her up and into his arms. Anne blinks at him in surprise and every single part of him _crows_ when he can see the bright fire in her eyes.

"Daniel?" Anne asks, but her arms are reaching around his neck instead of stumbling away from him.

"Gabriel, actually," he corrects, because if there is anyone that needs to know, it's her. She's _his_ whether she knows it or not.

Anne's lips tilt into a quirky little smile. "Buffy, actually," she repeats with the same tone and inflection.

Gabriel smiles, slow and dark; even more pleased when Buffy doesn't pull away. "Pleased to meet you."


End file.
